REAPER: GOLDEN SKULLS M.C. Rebecca Joyce (romantic story to read .txt) 📖

THREE

REAPER

Three days later…

I called Church an hour ago when Healer gave me the word that Remi would be moved to my room. I didn’t know how I would handle her in my space, but I figured since I hadn’t left her side since she arrived, she was better off with me at all times. As it was, I was chomping at the bit to get this meeting over with. I needed to see her and make sure she was comfortable.

I kept the meeting to officers only, not wanting the whole club to know Remi’s business. It was bad enough I had her upstairs in my room. Eventually, the tongues would wag, but I only wanted those I trusted most to know for now.

“So,” Smoke began. “As requested, I investigated Remi’s background. She was helpful with some names, dates, and such, so it did make it easier to track her over the years. She was born in San Diego, California, on May 7th, 2000, and adopted two weeks later by David and Kelly Halcomb.”

“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “Remi was adopted? I thought she was from Nebraska?”

“She was raised there, but she was born in California. I am trying to track down her birth parents, but that’s going to take time. According to California’s Child Welfare System, she was given up for adoption, then moved to the Holy Angels Children’s Home until her adoption was approved. Her adoptive mother was an elementary school teacher, and her father was the Bank President for the First National Bank of Lincoln. They owned a house in town. No mortgage, no other kids. At the age of eight, Remi was kidnapped right out of her front yard. A month later, she was found when this chapter raided a building of a known human trafficker named ‘The Collector.’ He was not found in the raid. After her abduction, she was sent back home with her parents to Nebraska. Everything went quiet until she reached sixteen when her mother was killed in a head-on collision when her car hit a tree. According to the police report, no other vehicle was involved. They deemed it reckless driving and over the limit alcohol. After that, Remi’s dad sold the house and moved them to Louisiana, where he took a job at the 1st 5th Bank of Louisiana in New Orleans. I’ve already called our chapter down there, and they are going to pick up the trail on the father since they are closer. But this is where everything gets murky. After arriving in New Orleans, there are no records of Remi ever attending school. I’ve checked all the databases and nada. It’s as if she dropped out. There is no work history for her either. In fact, she doesn’t even have a driver’s license.”

“So, where the fuck has she been for the last four years, then?” Hellhound asked, getting angry. I couldn’t blame him. I was angry too, but I needed to have a clear head and develop a plan to best help her.

“No clue,” Smoke replied. “It’s like she fell off the face of the fucking earth. Also, I think we need to send a couple of the brothers to Nebraska to check the place out because my gut is telling me something isn’t right.”

Chains perked up and asked, “About the mother’s accident.”

“That and other things. The house they lived in was purchased by the father’s brother, but after digging, David Halcomb didn’t have any siblings, nor did Kelly. Also, he sold the house well below market value, yet he has over a half mill in his account. Sorry, but bankers don’t make that much money. Then there is the police officer who was on the scene when Remi’s mother died. He has a record.”

Savage grinned, looking at Chains, “Which means he’s dirty.”

“Exactly.” Both men fist-bumped, eager for the chance at a road trip.

“All right you knumbskulls. You can leave in the morning but no side trips, no pussy, and no drinking. And don’t get fucking arrested. You do not want me to show up there, understood?” I ordered.

“Sure boss,” both men nodded in understanding.

“What did you find on ‘The Collector’?” Player asked curiously. “I have a techie friend who loves the deep web crap. I could ask her to investigate it if you haven’t found anything. She loathes fuckers who takes kids.”

Looking at Player, I raised my eyebrow, questioning him, “A chick? Can she be trusted?”

“I’d trust her with my life Reaper. She works with abused and tortured kids. She will want to help with this. A chance to bring down a big fish, oh yeah, she’d be all over this.”

Nodding, I motioned for Smoke to continue.

“As for ‘The Collector,’ I haven’t found much, but flags went up instantly. This fucker is wanted by Homeland, FBI, and Interpol for close to twenty years, and now Mossad wants him. There are no pictures of him, no paper trails, nothing. I couldn’t even follow the money, and you know I’m all about the money. It’s like the man’s a ghost.”

“Yeah, a really sick fucking ghost if you ask me,” Hellhound growled.

“What I can say is that everyone believes he lives somewhere in the United States, and he has connections, lots of them.”

“And no one is talking,” I surmised.

“Nope. They are making bank Reaper. They don’t want to destroy their gravy train. This year alone, over four hundred kids, ranging from four years old to eighteen, have gone missing without a trace. It is believed that ‘The Collector’ had something to do with their disappearance. Every year, thousands of kids go missing worldwide and depending on sex and age, these fuckers could make up to two grand each, more if the kid is a virgin. That’s roughly a billion-dollar a year industry in human trafficking, folks. These bastards are methodical, trained, and equipped. They know who to target and when to take them without